


Your Place In My Heart

by j_gabrielle



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Insecurities, Jon can't stand the heat, M/M, Modern AU, Sam is a good boyfriend, make out, slight angst, there is very little plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jon is silently grateful that he never has to share this experience, to share the gift that is Sam with anyone else</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Place In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janie_tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/gifts).



> For Janie <3
> 
> I wanted to write you pRon. Apparently my muses thought otherwise. Sorry. Anyways, this is my contribution to the Jon/Sam fic pool. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Unbataed. You have been warned.

Jon lies in the middle of their flat, spread eagle on the linoleum floor and seeking to leech out any relief from it. Every fan in their flat is facing him on full blast but they offer no escape from the heat wave that has gripped the city and brought it to its knees.

Briefly, Jon entertains the idea that he could somehow fix the air-conditioning system glitch in their building that would take more than a couple of days to fix. There isn’t a single part of his body that is not tacky with sweat or sticking to some surface or another although he is wearing nothing but Sam’s boxer shorts with the bananas that hang low on his hip.

Speaking of which…

Sam has been spending the past few days in the luxury of the library with working air-conditioners helping with the new stock of books. Jon would have joined him there; he certainly has been cajoled often enough, but Jon remembers that being in the _public_ library with Sam in his rimless glasses as he studiously focuses on whatever task at hand is probably not conducive to _not_ scarring passer-bys with his violent attraction to everything that is _his boyfriend_.

Yep.

Ergo, here he is. In hell.

Jon perks up at the faint jingling of keys in the hallway. When the key slots into the lock of the door, he immediately sits up, ignoring the way his back clings on as he separates from the floor.

“Hey, I bought you something.” Sam smiles in greeting. Dropping his keys into the bowl on top of the shoe cabinet, he shakes a plastic bag with ‘7-11’ emblazoned on it and the sound of their cargo entices Jon to follow Sam as he walks into their little kitchen. “Cherry flavour’s still your favourite right?” He reveals the box of ice-lollies and Jon feels like he could die a little with happiness.

Sam must have seen the look on his face, because he quickly stammers, “I-I bought a box of the mix flavour kind if you’re over cherries…”

Jon silences him with a kiss, grinning from ear to ear. “How did I get so lucky to have you?” He whispers softly, sliding his arm around soft waist. Sam’s eyes soften visibly, and Jon knows what is going on in that big old brain of his.

Years of being told that he isn’t good enough, that he is too fat, not worthy, unlovable does not just disappear when someone who genuinely believes otherwise comes into his life. Some days when his father’s words are all he believes in, Jon can do nothing more than just hold him close and show him that he was not going anywhere.

 It is not as if he isn’t aware of what Sam’s father thinks of them; that somehow he is only with Sam for his money, disregarding the fact that he is the nephew of Ned Stark, has enough money from his own trust fund and not to mention his mother’s own share of the Stark family money.

For Lord Randyll, the fact that his eldest son is gay is only another nail in the coffin. Just after Sam had turned 18, Randyll had made him abdicate as the family heir under threat of ‘a possible accident in the near future’, paying him off comfortably to step aside for his younger brother. It had broke Sam’s heart, and made Jon wish he had a TARDIS to go back to those three years before they’d met and tell Sam that he _is_ loved and he will always be the most perfect, most beautiful, kind and wonderful man to Jon.

Thankfully for once, Sam doesn’t shy away from Jon as he is wont to do whenever he compliments on something. Stealing another kiss, Jon helps put the boxes of lollies into the freeze compartment, but not before taking a cherry flavoured one for himself.

Adjusting the fans to face the sofa (not leather and for once he is glad Sam was insistent about that), he drops into his seat and switches on the telly. “ _Revenge_ marathon! You’re just in time!” He laughs, knowing that the exploits of Emily Thorne and her tangled web of love and deception is one of Sam’s ultimate guilty pleasures. The familiar monologue at the starting of an episode signals Sam’s arrival.

Jon brushes his sweat damp curls away from his eyes, turning over to catch the sight of his boyfriend slipping into the space next to him. Sam had apparently shed the layers of clothing he had had on, and now was wearing the dark red silk boxers that Jon had gotten him last Christmas. Suddenly, the room felt even more stifling, his vision narrowing into a tunnel until all he could focus on was the memory of what had happened under the Christmas tree after Sam had put them on and the week leading up to New Year’s Day where they barely left the bed.

That was a _really_ good week.

Something must be showing on his face, because Sam leans over to take a huge bite of his treat. “Hey!” Jon protested.

Sam shrugged, grinning. They sit watching Emily and Nolan plot out a new way of bringing down their enemies until Jon licks the last cold piece off the stick and into his mouth. Hit with a brilliant idea that has been rolling around in his head while he had been waiting for Sam to return, he climbs over to straddle Sam’s lap.

Jon has his knees on either side of Sam’s hips, scooting forward to press their clothed groins together. Sam has this look in his eyes that is part incredulity and part arousal. Jon smirks quietly to himself, knowing the effect that he gives to Sam when he is gently grinding down his hips.

Sam places his hands on Jon’s waist, gently as if afraid. Jon has told him time and time again that he is not afraid of a little pain and he isn’t going to break if Sam got a little rough with handling him.

“Jon.” He did not notice closing his eyes, but when he opens them he is assaulted with the sight of his lover with his pupils blown lust wide, his lips parted slightly, a bright blush creeping up his neck. Jon knows he will never tire of the way Sam responds to his every touch.

He brings their foreheads close, relishing the way he can count each and every one of Sam’s eyelashes. Nuzzling their noses together, he breathes in the scent of the city on his skin, the way he smells like their shared shampoo and the faint hint of musk. Jon arches his body, feeling the way that his boxers slip ever so slightly more until he can taste the pressure of Sam pressing his fingers on the jut of his hips, holding on.

“Jon.” He hears being sighed again. Sam leans up to capture his lips in a kiss. It is languid, slow, lazy. There is no hurry in the way their lines come together, all the finesse left in their touches poured into artfully moulding their lips together till they could not tell where one ended and the other began. “Oh Jon…” Sam breathes, upper lip still brushing against Jon’s.

Jon cards his fingers through Sam’s dark hair, sighing happily when Sam moves the heel of his hand up to the base of his spine.

A gentle tap on his hip signals him to straighten his body, letting Sam divest him of the banana boxer. “Of all the things you could have taken from my drawer, you took this?” He smiles, smoothing a palm down his naked skin. Jon shivers at the touch, throwing his head back when Sam tilts his head to suck a bruise into the side of his neck.

“It’s-I like it.” Jon gasps, letting Sam move his hands away from his hair and to the head of the sofa. His erection is pressing up against the swell of Sam’s belly, and Jon hips can’t help thrusting slightly against the flesh. Sam free hand moves south to grab at his ass. Jon suppresses the urge to roll their bodies over and let Sam take him on the sofa in full view of their neighbours from the opposite building courtesy of the open curtain less windows.

Neighbours. The reminder is a cold dash of realisation in his arousal.

There were still threads in his consciousness that still told him that they would be more comfortable in bed with a guaranteed perk of privacy. And perhaps there were still some in his boyfriend’s that told him the same thing too.

They pause in their motions of touching each other, staring into each other’s eyes before bursting out in giggles and chuckles. Jon brushes his thumb against the line of Sam’s nose, matching his shy smile.

“I’ve watched this episode before.” Sam says, thumbing the line where his hip met thigh. “You didn’t take the fan in our room did you?”

“It’s a ceiling fan.” Jon deadpanned, though his eyes shone with affection and mischievousness.

Sam grinned. “Just checking.” He brushes their lips together briefly, nudging Jon to wrap his legs around his waist. “Hold on.” He bounces Jon in his hold, laughing when Jon chokes and squeals.

Most people would think that there is nothing under the soft flesh padding Sam’s bones. And they would be sorely mistaken. There is much strength and power in that body, but Jon is silently grateful that he never has to share this experience, to share the gift that is Sam with anyone else.

Jon wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, laughing as they shuffle and bump their way into their room. The bright glow of happiness and contentment bloomed strong in his chest, feeling the overflowing sense of love and pride for the man Sam was, is and will be.

“I love you.” He says as Sam lies him back down against the sheets. “I love you so very much Samwell Tarly.”

Sam stops in running his hands up and down Jon’s side, looking up and catching his eyes. Jon can see the multitude of thoughts spreading out in his brain, and is about to push himself upright when Sam bends down to lick into his mouth, tangling their tongues together as they kissed.

“I love you too, Jon Snow.” Said simply, softly with a finger tracing his cherry stained lips. The admission takes the air out of his lungs, and he lets himself be taken into the urge to pull their bodies together, letting their skins meld.

Jon thinks that if he could imagine what heaven is like, it would be anywhere with Sam by his side. And what a paradise it would be.

 

 

  
[end.]


End file.
